YumiKuri -- What A Steal
by your.acid.hatred
Summary: Ymir ponders the working of the outskirts of the city, where children are sold like cattle. Out of this pity, she buys a small girl named Historia Reiss, who asked Ymir to call her Krista. (Short chapters, but there'll be a lot.)


A/N :

This is going to be a rather long story of a Scribe!Ymir and a Peasant!Historia, who grows up as the story continues. I don't own SNK, Ymir, or Krista/Historia, or anything else.

Under a collected faint sky, I happen to stumble and hobble past a group of children. They toss dolls up to eachother, fabricating stories of a maid and her beastly step-sisters- the abandoned cindergirl sneaking to the ball. A prince there enamoured her- fell deeply for.

I watched from a distance, as the aged are often invisible to the young.

I ponder this- the step-sisters. They were full of regret, when their disgrace of a step-sibling became their queen. Perhaps they should have treated her better, they should have let her try on their ballgowns, spare her from single handedly picking charred lentils.

I turned away from their noisy game to continue the walk, momently forgetting the way I was going. It came back to me instantly, I checked the fob watch that lay quietly in my pocket.

Eve of the Fifth, a celebration day. The snow had ceased and planting would begin soon. It was celebratory because we survived.

It was morbid, but a treat.

I continued my step, my feet used to the rough trail I was on. It had been walked by me all of the week -besides the Sabbath- for the past several years.

I had never been quite poor enough that my family attempted to sell me, this monstrosity happening a building or so after I leave the obnoxious children. A young, crying girl attempts to hold on her mother's hand, while the mother screams her price.

Disgusting. The girl had potentiel, and here was she being sold.

I bought her. (Out of pity).

I gave her a smile, to which she tried to bury her face in her mother's apron . That resulted in a harsh smack. (Poor kid).

The mother explained with fire in her voice, "None Trade-back, name is Historia."

"You should love your daughter instead." I said venomously.

"Don't tell me what to do, boy scrounging for scraps!"

That was another thing- I was a girl with a medium bust, yet my tall build and features caused me to be called lad.

"You're one to talk." hissed myself, turning to the child, who was rubbing her cheek and crying. "Historia, will you come with me, please?"

The girl sniffed and nodded, walking to me, barefoot. (While her mother was in jewels). "Be careful for shards," I warned, and began walking.

The girl was only five or so years old, with messy hair to her shoulders. It was bright yellow. I cautiously put my hand on her shoulder, making sure she did not stray away, and continued to the shoppe.

I was a scribe, who had to write entire books by hand- and it was hard. Really hard. I am unappreciated, especially by the boss. I worked for an older, shorter man, a knight in his day. "Sir Levi" is what we called him, him preferring his prename.

The musty air of books beat us, I and "Krista" - she told me she wanted to be called that instead of 'Historia'. She gagged a bit, peering around brightly. I leaned down, mumbling a "Touch only with your vision."

Thankfully, while Sir Levi was rude to adults, he was rather kind to children, especially poor children. Yet, I don't think he was here - occasionally, he left early. I headed to my chair, sitting down and plucking up my inkquill.

Historia was examining the book I was copying down, yet I doubt she could read. Maybe? Not many people had time to learn to read. "Can you read it?" I questioned, not taking my eyes off of the book.

"Yes. Frieda taught me how to."

"Who is Frieda?"

"My half-sister."

"Oh." I dabbed into the ink, stroking it on the paper for the large J.

"She taught me English, too."

"Is that so?" I listened, but kept my eyes on the paper.

"Thank you."

I drew my quill over my bottle, confused, and looked over at her. "For what, Krista?"

"Saving me. Are you a knight hero?"

"No, Krista, I am merely a scribe-gal."

"You're a girl?"

"Yes."

"Do you get mistaken as a boy a lot?"

"Yes." I turned from her to my page, sketching the surrounding designs for J.

"Is being a scribe really hard?"

"Indeed."

"Can I be your assistant one day?"

I chuckled fondly. "Sure, I will teach you when I run this shoppe."


End file.
